<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Gifts by Aemeth</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219601">The Gifts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aemeth/pseuds/Aemeth'>Aemeth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Lesbian Relationship, Cession magic, F/F, The skull - Freeform, still can't believe how soft they are, the mark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:21:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aemeth/pseuds/Aemeth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Raelle and Scylla craft their gifts for each other, both thinking back to their pasts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Raelle's gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From episode 5 on I had strong feelings about the gifts they gave each other and painted how they forged them. Now I thought I should write about it, too :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Charms had always been made from birds in the Collar Family.</p><p>“Birds fly through the world, undetected through entchantments, taking in the seeds of many lands,” Raelle's mother had whispered to her as she had sat on her lap, playing with the combat charm on her mother's dusty uniform jacket. Willa Collar had just come home from yet another deployment and even though she had arrived two hours ago, Raelle had refused to leave her mother's strong legs, clinging to her, soaking in her voice, her presence. Now she eyed the blue gemstone in the bird foot curiously, this thing that seemed to buzz with power. Her mother, tears shining in her eyes, smiled at her and covered her small hand over the bird's food with her own. It was rough and rugged with scars from wounds she had taken on.</p><p>“They ride the winds and carry the sounds of the work they hear on. All of them strengthen the spell you want to capture within them. One day, this one will protect you.”</p><p>Raelle could still hear her voice in her ears as clearly as though she were sitting on her lap in the cession and for a moment the memory was so painfully real, she had to close her eyes.</p><p>She almost stumbled over a root on the ground and cursed.</p><p>Maybe coming back to the Salem woods at night wasn't her brightest idea but she couldn't sleep. There had just been another Spree attack and when they had shown some of the victims, a girl with dark hair and bright eyes -</p><p>It wouldn't be too long until Scylla would be deployed. That reality had struck her like a thunder bolt and left her unable to sleep, her heart thundering away until she had finally stood up, dressed, and begun her night walk to Gallow's Hill.</p><p>When she had walked this path with Scylla all she had been aware of was the soothing and playful voice before her, mischievous and vulnerable eyes. But now, in the silence of deep night, she felt the sorrow seeping out of this cursed place. Faint whimpers echoing in every owl's howl, like the echos of the thousands of witches that were hanged here.</p><p>She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself against the sudden cold she felt.</p><p>She reached the graveyard and found the carcass of the bird immediately; it was ripped apart now, no doubt by hungry predators, the death cap Scylla had conjured all but gone. Raelle's brow furrowed when she crouched down next to it and found two dead mouses lying next to the bird's remains, surrounded by flies.</p><p>Was the mushroom poisonous? But Scylla had tasted it's spores. She shook her head and pulled out her father's old pocket knife. Carefully and gently she separated the bird's skull from the skeleton. Then she freed it of the remaining skin and feathers and earth, before spilling the alcohol she had brought over it and cleaning it meticulously.</p><p>Satisfied she pocketed the now clear skull and stood, throwing one last smile at the graveyard clearing. It was true it was a place of sorrow; but to her it would also always be the place that she had truly seen Scylla for the first time. She may still not know her history but she had seen it in her eyes and she had wanted to take the pain she saw away like it was an injury she could heal with a psalm.</p><p>Closing her hand around the skull in her pocket she turned, making her way back to the fort.</p><p>When she arrived with the first morning light and slipped into bed, she fell asleep peacefully, knowing she now could do something to protect Scylla.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next day was full of scourge excercise, runs and and yet another argument with Abigail, and she was anxious when she finally found time to walk into the woods. She found a blooming tree of wisteria and carefully picked out two of it's strongest twigs, trailing her fingers over the purple leaves.</p><p>When she pressed them between the pages of a thick book in her dorm she was startled by Tally.</p><p>“What are you doing?” the redhead asked curiously.</p><p>“Nothing”, Raelle said quickly, slamming the book shut. A purple leaf stuck out and Tally gave her a knowing look.</p><p>“Making something for your girlfriend?” she teased, but it was said with such honest excitement that Raelle couldn't find it in her to be annoyed.</p><p>She just smiled and lowered her eyes and Tally hummed, nudging her cheek in passing, like it had become their custom. When she asked her if she had any paint the redhead just smiled and in the evening she brought her colors she had borrowed from Glory.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next morning Raelle awoke in Scylla's arms. Soft orange light bathed them together, it was long before the first bell would ring. Raelle shifted and blinked, smiling when she saw that Scylla's face, nestled into her neck, was entirely covered by her hair. Gently, she moved the dark strands away from her forehead and eyes, kissing her brow. Then she extracted herself carefully from her embrace, pulled on her pants and a long sleeved shirt against the chill of the morning, grabbed her bag and slipped out of the room barefoot, as not to wake her girlfriend.</p><p>In the morning dew she made her way to the main building, enjoying the feel of cold grass beneath her bare feet. There she stole glue and a clasp from the supply room and then sat down by the staircase of the hall, the colored windows filling the usually bustling space with quiet yellow light. She fit the pieces together, fastening the wisteria twigs to the sides of the skull, and lining the clasp with green leaves. Finally, she raised her father's pocket knife to the back of her head and cut off one of her braids.</p><p>And when she started weaving it around the leaves in circles she closed her eyes and started to chant:</p><p>“<em>When I called, you answered me; you greatly emboldened me. Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life...</em>”</p><p>She tied the end of the braid closed and then moved to take the brush, dipping it in black paint and starting to paint the ancient runes onto the skull.</p><p>“<em>I stretch out my hand against the anger of your foes; with my right hand... I save you.</em>”</p><p>She finished her last brush with a shuddering breath, feeling the energy leaving her. For a short moment the skull glowed in gentle blue, before it dissapeared into the leaves and bone.</p><p>Raelle smiled at her creation, turning it this way and that way in her hands. Then she brought it softly to her lips.</p><p>“<em>Scylla.</em>” She uttered the name as she would a seed, a reverent promise, binding the charm to her and her alone.</p><p>She looked up into the painted windows, blinking against the yellow light.</p><p>She would give it to her at the wedding; so all the world would see that Scylla Ramshorn was not alone and would be protected wherever she went. She closed her fingers gently around the charm with iron resolve.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Scylla's Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Dodgers had little use for the canon. The canon was limited, single minded and it left a trace, always, which of course was exactly what Alder wanted. Scylla's mom had always experimented with her work, sometimes hurting herself. Scylla had sat eagerly watching her when she was experimenting whenever she could, dying to learn. But Ariadne Ramshorn had sternly said that she was yet too young before lovingly tousling her her hair. So Scylla had hunted elsewhere for information. So few of their kind had ever dared to keep written records of their work and what was there had always been coded. She had started, of course, with the bible. But the chanting magic had not come naturally to her, with no one around her familiar with it. So naturally, she befriended the Porter boy. It wasn't long until he was besotted with her and it was laughably easy to convince him to get her his father's notebook. Scylla had heard him do work in witch tongue and was determined to learn it. Once Porter got her the book it became her very own bible and through the long hours of the night she would stay up, whispering the strange words until she found them tear at that force running along her blood and make it sing.</p><p>Izadora had learned of her skill; she had not told on her. Her teacher shared her curiosity, it didn't even need to be talked about. She was the one who had introduced Scylla to Fort Salem's criminally underused library and had given her whispered hints at where she would find the few writings on non canon work. And with her throat still hurting form the strangling hands of the Spree agent and her heart beating wildly, she made her way once more into the darkest and dustiest section of the library. As always it was deserted. Her fellow cadets had little care for written work, sheep as most of them were. Scylla went quietly and picked up her favorite: the diary of Saoirse Donawan, an Irish witch, who had come to America over the sea and had spend the arduous journey writing away.</p><p>She dimly recalled a passage from the end of it and found it quickly. In the warm light of the library lamps she skidded her finger along the old ink:</p><p> </p><p><em>The man with the mustache, he is watching us; I know that he saw me when he looked over the passenger list. I whispered the tongue but he must have seen my fingers moving; either way, when he spotted our names on the list I know he knew they had not been there before. I spied him tracing over our names, trying to imitate the word; he said </em> shaear<em>, and I had to stifle my laughter, for how red would he become if he knew what he said. </em></p><p> </p><p>Scylla chuckled. A witch hater man of the 18<sup>th</sup> century saying the word period? It was hilarious. But she had idly wondered the first time she had read the passage what word it was he could have meant, what word could transport the writing of Saoirse's fingers to the paper of the passenger's list?</p><p>What was similar to <em>shaear</em>?</p><p>Scylla leaned onto a bookshelve and closed her eyes, quietly muttering witch tongue to herself.</p><p>Shaeren, perhaps? Transport?</p><p>She took a deep calming breath and hummed, slowly drawing an <em>S</em> on her palm. She fixated her eyes on the old wooden table she had rested the diary on.</p><p>“Shaeren,” she whispered clearly, concentrating her thoughts on the image of the <em>S </em>appearing on the wooden surface.</p><p>The next moment she winced at the sharp pain in her palm. Faltering she looked first at her hand and then at the table; and indeed a shaky <em>S</em> had appeared on surface. In her blood. Scylla cursed. Carefully she swept the letter away, sighed, and sunk back onto the shelf.</p><p>“Work always comes with a price,” her mom had always said. “Whatever you do – always be sure that it is worth it.”</p><p>In Scylla's mind there was no doubt on Raelle's worth.</p><p>For half an hour she drew up words in her mind, whispered combinations... and finally she smiled in excitement. She forced herself to calm down again, took a deep, meditative breath, and this time tried to mentally prepare herself for incoming pain.</p><p>“Baéd shae shar,” she whispered. <em>I am with you.</em></p><p>When the pain appeared again she almost interrupted the flow of her work... but then she spotted the curves appearing in the wood, shaky but clear. With an excited gasp she leaned over the table. There it was, a sketchy but clearly recognizable <em>S</em>, as though someone had carved it into the wood. She swallowed down her excitement and put her finger on her palm again where she had ended the letter... and slowly traced it backwards. When the letter dissapeared from the table with her movement she broke out into a triumphant grin.</p><p>She lent back into the shelve and, rubbing her throbbing hand, her smile turned melancholic. She hadn't allowed herself to think about why she wanted to be able to send Raelle a sign. After all, the plan was for them to join the Spree together. Her hand wandered from her hurting hand to her still aching throat. She knew the Spree could be volatile... but taking Raelle's form and it strangling her...</p><p>She shuddered, trying to surrpess that memory. They didn't want her this close. That seemed to be self evident. So for the first time, she wasn't so sure anymore if that dream of Raelle and her fighting for the course together would really become realty as she pictured it. She still didn't know what plans they had for Raelle. She didn't know if they would sent her back to Fort Salem to recruit someone new...</p><p>She swallowed thickly. No. They had promised they would be extracted, both her and Raelle. She would have to trust their word. And should they be briefly separated – Scylla now had a way of showing her that she was with her in thought, always.</p><p>She remembered how her heart had skipped when Raelle had said that to her.</p><p>
  <em>Miss me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Always.</em>
</p><p>Like it was simple fact, uttered with loving conviction.</p><p>So Scylla's heart had skipped a beat when she had said it and it prompted her to press herself closer to the gentle girl, wanting to shield her from the looming flag hanging before them, bearing the names of all the Collars who had given their lifes to slavery.</p><p>But not her. Not Raelle.</p><p>With sudden realization she looked out from the window and saw with surprise that dusk had given way to night; she was late.</p><p>Quickly but carefully she put Saoirse's diary back into the shelve and started to sprint, out of the library and across the fort to the Medea barracks. When she slithered onto her corridor, Raelle was calmly sitting on the floor in front of her door and turning to her with surprise. Then the surprise gave way to a loving smile.</p><p>“Did you run here?” she laughed, getting up and walking to her, holding her up as Scylla buckled a little, wheezing from the run.</p><p>The touch of now so familiar hands and Raelle's loving eyes calmed her immediately and she smiled.</p><p>“I didn't want you to wait,” she said in between breaths and Raelle smiled back. “You shouldn't have.”</p><p>Scylla opened the door to her room, Raelle right behind her, pressing her face into her sweaty neck and kissing it gently.</p><p>“And have Izadora catch you here? It's bad enough we have one sergeant on our bad side.”</p><p>At the end of her sentence her voice broke and she felt Raelle tense.</p><p>“Scyll, are you alright?”</p><p>As soon as they were in her room Raelle put a hand to her face, looking her over with worried eyes.</p><p>Scylla's heart throbbed with fear and with wonder at being looked at with so much love.</p><p>“I... just practiced a new seed for too long,” she finally reassured the younger girl with a confident smile. “I'm fine.”</p><p>Her voice broke again and she cursed inwardly.</p><p>Raelle brought her other hand to her neck.</p><p>“I can fix it.”</p><p>Scylla halted. Her eyes wandered over Raelle's earnest face, so tired but alive with love and worry. She leaned forward and kissed her gently, bringing her arms around her neck.</p><p>“I don't want you to take my pain,” she said gently against her lips. <em>I don't want you in any pain.</em></p><p>Raelle nuzzled her nose with her own.</p><p>“I wouldn't have it for long. And I don't want you to be in pain either.”</p><p>Scylla pressed herself close to Raelle at that, as close as she could. Raelle took her into her embrace immediately, her strong and wiry arms wrapping around her gently.</p><p>Scylla pressed her lips to Raelle's ear.</p><p>“You can take it away in other ways,” she whispered hotly and proceeded to kiss the warm skin there. Raelle shuddered. She pressed herself closer, her hands roaming to Scylla's sides, one of them slipping beneath her shirt and gliding over her sweat glistening skin, while Scylla kissed her neck with a gasp.</p><p>“You smell of flowers,” she breathed, taking in the sweet smell on her skin. Raelle smiled and brought their faces back together, taking her bottom lip between her own.</p><p>“I was in the woods,”she hummed and Scylla wanted to ask her why but then Raelle kissed her deeply and thoroughly and all thoughts of pain, of her neck, her hand, of Spree and the army flew out of her mind as she lost herself in their passion.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I always loved that Scylla seems to experiment with magic and was so intrigued by the different types of magic used in MFS. I was very dissapointed they never went into explaining it, so this is my little take on it :) Somehow this story also became a backstory for Scylla and Raelle in many ways^^ Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!</p><p>PS: because multiple people asked me on tumblr: yes, you can get the paintings on redbubble:)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I took the liberty to alter Psalm 138:3, 7 for this, I thougth it very fitting. Let me know your thoughts! Scylla's gift will follow.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>